


Snowstorm

by Amikotsu



Series: Whumptober Prompts [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Best Friends, Divorce, Explosion, F/F, F/M, Friendship, Immigration & Emigration, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Snow and Ice, Whumptober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-10 16:27:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20854772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amikotsu/pseuds/Amikotsu
Summary: Without her marriage, without Sasuke, she wasn’t Sakura anymore. She told herself that sake would fill the holes left by the finalized divorce. Sake would hold her as the stress from her job overwhelmed her; sake would smile and tell her how beautiful she looked, even though her hair was a mess and her pajamas were two sizes too big. If sake could do those things, the many things Sasuke had done for her, then she told herself she’d be alright. Sake could love her. And then there was Ino.





	Snowstorm

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt(s): Explosion & Broken Voice

Divorce. The word brought up images of a tumultuous relationship, yet one with a well-defined beginning and ending. She imagined verbal and physical abuse stretching out across the span of the relationship, then a sudden crescendo and a violent downturn. Of course, the image ended in flames for both parties, because she couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to throw everything away, to forget each and every detail of the relationship, of the person they’d loved. No wonder Ino constantly complained about her rose-colored glasses and her constant need to romanticize every person and every situation. Sakura’s three-year relationship had started with an unwanted pregnancy and ended with a slew of unearthed affairs. She hated herself for overlooking Sasuke’s many flaws, for finding a rose buried in the millions of thorns. Suddenly, drinking all of her problems away seemed like the best decision she could make. She had no one at home; she had no one waiting on her. Sometimes, divorce did that to a person. It made her world seem so small. Without her marriage, without Sasuke, she wasn’t Sakura anymore. She told herself that sake would fill the holes left by the finalized divorce. Sake would hold her as the stress from her job overwhelmed her; sake would smile and tell her how beautiful she looked, even though her hair was a mess and her pajamas were two sizes too big. If sake could do those things, the many things Sasuke had done for her, then she told herself she’d be alright. Sake could love her, could take her at her best and at her worst. 

Sake quickly turned to whisky, an unplanned move, but one she couldn’t bring herself to regret. The music in the bar was too loud, thanks to a couple that had requested the higher volume, only to retreat to a booth in the corner. Sakura glanced in their direction, green eyes focused on the corner booth, and barely contained a snort. They were more interested in kissing and groping than enjoying “Hotel California” blaring from the speakers. Sakura rested her forearms atop the worn wooden bar and picked at the chipped veneer with her left index finger, slowly lifting the covering over the deep mahogany. The bartender hadn’t bothered her in the last forty minutes, appearing and disappearing only when she needed a refill. Countless times, she’d told herself that her next drink would be her last, but after an hour, she knew better than to continue the charade.

Sakura regretted moving to America, and it had nothing to do with “Hotel California” or the suspicious moans coming from that darkened corner. She’d found work. She’d found friends. But she missed Japan. She’d died her hair pink to remind her of the cherry blossoms she’d left behind; at the time, she’d thought it poetic, but in her buzzed state, she found the color disgusting, as disgusting as her name. Sighing, Sakura lifted her empty tumbler and gave the glass a little shake, signaling to the bartender that she needed yet another refill. She knew she’d had too much to drink. She didn’t need the judgmental look he shot her. She thought he would have been used to sad saps dragging themselves through the door at all hours of the day. She shouldn’t have assumed.

She’d married Sasuke at twenty, thanks to the surprise pregnancy and her parents’ insistence. Despite her initial reserves, Sakura found herself thrilled at the idea of spending her life with Sasuke. She’d spent a month going through wedding magazines, trying to find the perfect Western-style dress, and then she’d lost the baby -- _they’d_ lost the baby -- and it was a wake-up call for both of them. With no sense of urgency, the two had discussed calling off the wedding, waiting a year or two before tying the knot. Sasuke had asked her to keep the date, and so they’d gotten married anyway. They were happy, for about eight months, and then their relationship became a constant war, a verbal onslaught with breaks for work and sleep. He’d never hit her, never raised a hand to her, but he’d said some terrible things during their arguments. They moved to America because he got a promotion at work, one requiring him to relocate. Since they were at a crossroads, since Sakura refused to give up on him and the world they shared together, she’d gone with him. Stupid, spontaneous, stubborn Sakura just had to go with him. What did she have to show for her sixteen-month marriage? She couldn’t remember how many times the bartender had refilled her glass, but that’s what she had. They’d never tried for a baby, and she thanked a higher power for that much.

“I’m cutting you off. This is it.” The bartender refilled her glass and looked her in the eye, as if daring her to disagree. Sakura scowled at him and yanked her glass away from him. “I mean it,” he said, voice gruff. When he turned his back to her, she stuck her tongue out at him. She didn’t care that the act left her feeling childish and pathetic. She hoped that he’d seen her rebellious act reflected in the mirror propped up behind the bar.

Sakura stared down at the amber liquid in her glass. She’d started out with an ice cube, but she’d given up on that after her second glass. She didn’t need her drink watered down; she didn’t need her drink chilled. She wanted the burn that came along with the cheap whisky. Somewhere, Sasuke was sleeping with his secretary, Karin-something. She was another transfer from Japan, and she had bigger boobs and better legs, so it wasn’t a surprise to Sakura that Sasuke had made a move. Ino had called it, and Sakura should have listened; in fact, Ino had called a lot of things. Ino wasn’t one to sugarcoat, and Sakura loved her for it. Sakura needed someone to talk some sense into her, because she’d lost her mind the moment she’d agreed to move to America with her cheating husband. Sakura lifted her glass and coated the rest of her thoughts with a healthy swig of whisky. She continued the process until all of her thoughts and all of the whiskey were gone, and then she slid the empty glass down the bar. She turned on the stool and placed one foot on the floor, then the other. She grasped the bar with both hands, trying to steady herself, but she knew she was an absolute wreck. 

Sighing, Sakura threw her car keys into her purse and started rooting around for her phone. She would have called Sasuke. He would have picked her up and driven her home. But they were divorced, and he was too busy sticking his dick in some redheaded slut. Failing to immediately produce her phone, and irritated at her own bitterness, Sakura ran her fingers through her pink hair, finding knots she hadn’t noticed throughout the day. When the bartender started his approach, Sakura grabbed her purse from the bartop and made her way to the exit. She’d paid her tab, and she didn’t want to hear him anymore. American bars always left her feeling dirty and ashamed, even under the fog brought on by one too many. 

Outside, Sakura inhaled the crisp December air. She drew her deep-violet peacoat around herself, seeking warmth beneath the rough fabric and the smooth inner lining. She’d forgotten her gloves at home, so she couldn’t save her cold hands and fingers. There was more snow on the ground, though another plow had come through to clear the roadways. At least the nation’s capital kept up on that, because she wasn’t one for trudging through the deep snow. When she finally found her phone, she fumbled with the buttons, trying to get the screen on, then trying to unlock it. She only had one person to call, one person she didn’t mind calling, and that was Ino.

“Look who decided to call,” Ino greeted her, finding some humor in the ten o’clock phone call. Sakura stuffed her free hand into her coat pocket and savored the little bit of warmth from her phone. “Was that a truck? It’s freezing outside. We’re supposed to get another four inches of snow. What are you doing out?” 

Sakura wasn’t one to break down. She’d always been the strong one in her group of friends, and all throughout her childhood. But the urge to scream and cry overwhelmed her and she found herself sobbing. She didn’t care that the cold bit at her nose and reddened her cheeks; she didn’t care that the wind burned her eyes and snot trailed from her nose. She sniffled on every inhale and shuddered with every exhale, and Ino was right there with her, telling her that everything would be fine, telling her to wait right there. When the call ended, Sakura tucked her phone back into her purse and tried to curl in on herself as much as possible. Going back into the bar wasn’t an option. She knew that she would want to reclaim her seat and start drinking all over again, which would lead to an altercation with the bartender -- Sakura didn’t need that in her life. She told herself she’d been through enough. 

Ino was late getting to the bar, but the roads weren’t in the best condition, and Sakura was too relieved to see her to really care. Ino pulled up to the curb and Sakura jerked open the passenger side door and dropped into the seat. At first, Sakura had found the beat-up sedan annoying, as the brakes needed work and it was unreliable on even the best of days, but Ino loved the car, and Sakura had to admit that seeing it right then had her smiling. The heat was on full blast, but the air was barely warm. The exterior of the car was coated in white, except for the windows, where Ino had brushed away the snow and scraped off the ice. Sakura buckled her seatbelt and leaned back into the passenger seat, even as she thrust her hands out to rest over the air vent closest to the window.

“Tell me you didn’t spend your day in that gross bar,” Ino frowned, turning her turn signal on to get back into the line of traffic. Sakura pressed her lips together, as if refusing to respond. Ino took one look at her and knew. “Look, Sasuke is a piece of shit. He’s no good for anyone. His head is so far up,” Ino began, getting into one of her famous rants.

“I loved him! You didn’t! You didn’t have to go through this messy divorce! You didn’t think you were going to spend the rest of your life with him only to find out he’s been having numerous affairs, only to have your mutual friend show up with the divorce papers because Sasuke isn’t brave enough, or doesn’t care enough, to do it himself! You don’t understand because all you have is a fucking cat!”

Sakura had never screamed at Ino before, and she immediately felt the guilt and shame rise up around her and swallow her whole. Ino slammed on the brakes, sending Sakura flying forward, until the seatbelt jerked her back. Sakura took a shaky breath in and turned her wide eyes on Ino. They’d known one another for four months, and Sakura had never seen Ino look so broken. Ino’s lips twitched, and Sakura knew it wasn’t for a smile. Sakura shouldn’t have lost her temper. She shouldn’t have exploded on her best friend, the proverbial bomb encompassing the interior of the car, the imaginary flames consuming them. Ino swerved off the road and into a parking space, then she shoved the vehicle into park, yanked the keys from the ignition, and turned to glare at Sakura.

“You’re right. All I have is a fucking _cat_, Sakura, but I’d take my fucking cat over the one-sided relationship you had with Sasuke. You should be _happy_ he’s gone! You can move on and find someone who really loves you. I might only have a cat, but at least he’s loyal and he doesn’t fuck around in my house.”

“Unlock the doors,” Sakura demanded, fighting with the locks on her passenger door. When she managed to hit the correct button, Ino hit the lock button again, trapping her inside. Frustrated, Sakura tried again, only to get the same result. They had a war over the lock, then Sakura decided she’d climb out the window, if she had to, and that turned into another war. Chest heaving, eyes burning with unshed tears, Sakura turned to glare at her friend. Again, Sakura tried the window, and again, Ino denied her.

“Are you going to climb out the car window and walk home in the snow? You’re wearing sneakers with mesh, _forehead_. You’ll end up with frostbite.”

“Listen, pig, don’t tell me how to live my life! If I want to climb out the window and go mountain climbing in my mesh sneakers, then I will!”

“You aren’t even making any sense! Stop acting like a brat!”

It was explosion after explosion, shout after shout, until their voices cracked, until they had no more words to give, and then it became about swatting at one another. Ino finally hooked a hand behind Sakura’s neck and shoved her down until her forehead hit the dash. That ended their fight. Sakura pressed her right hand over her forehead, wincing at the rush of pain, then she lowered her hand to her lap. Ino mumbled an apology, but Sakura waved her left hand, dismissing the words. They were both at fault. Sakura decided that they should never fight again, because they were both stubborn and loud. When enough time had passed, Ino shoved the key into the ignition and started the car. She stayed in the parking space though, her blue eyes watching the cars pass alongside them. It was snowing again, and the snow sparkled under the light of the streetlights, the flakes twirling and flying along with the cold breeze. Sakura remembered Ino’s words about the snowfall total and she wondered if her car would be alright, if it would feel as alone and cold and scared as she felt.

“I don’t think I can do this,” Sakura whispered, her voice cracking as she dissolved into sobs again. She heard the noise of Ino’s seatbelt, and then she felt arms wrap around her, pulling her in as far as her own seatbelt allowed. “I’m so stupid! I followed him to America and now I have nothing.”

“Now you’re being stupid. You have me. What about Tenten and Hinata, the girls you met at the community college? And there’s always Lee! He’s into you!”

“He’s gross,” Sakura frowned, hugging Ino to herself. Their embrace was uncomfortable, since they hugged over the center console, but neither woman cared. Ino ran a hand over Sakura’s pink hair and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Mom kisses? Really?”

“It works for my cat,” Ino defended herself, her cheeks turning red. “You might not have Sasuke anymore, but you don’t have to pack up and go back to Japan. You can build a life here, Sakura. It could be pretty great. And I’ll always have your back.”

“Just hold me a little longer,” Sakura mumbled into Ino’s blonde hair.

They stayed like that until Ino complained about her back, then it was more about driving than discussing feelings. Sakura had let everything build, ignoring feelings, burying pain, until it twisted her into something dark and ugly, someone she couldn’t quite recognize anymore. If Sakura took more glances at Ino, she wrote it off as concern; if Ino kept smirking for some unknown reason, Sakura didn’t comment. Together, they were twin explosions, both fiery in temperament, and Sakura found comfort in the familiarity. She’d never known someone like Ino, not back in Japan. If staying in America meant staying with Ino, meant more explosions, one right after another, explosions that left her feeling more alive than ever before, then she was staying in America. One day, her divorce wouldn’t matter anymore. Sasuke would become just another bump in the road. Maybe he and Karin deserved one another after all.

“I know I look good. You don’t have to keep checking me out, forehead.”

“Ugh, gross, pig. I was staring at the pimple on your cheek. It’s gigantic.”

“What?”

“Don’t look in the mirror! Keep your eyes on the road!”

She didn’t need a man in her life, not when she had someone as amazing as Ino.


End file.
